


Gin Tonic

by LizzieHarker



Series: The Arrowsverse [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky is terrible at submission, Dom Steve Rogers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Steve's tactic is basically wear Bucky down until he cries, Swing Dancing, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieHarker/pseuds/LizzieHarker
Summary: Bucky smirked. “Think you got enough to get moving?”Steve’s focus darted to the other couples dancing, the swishing skirts and rapid turns. “I don’t know. I’m not that good, Buck.”“You’ve been dancing all of five minutes, Rogers. I didn’t learn swing overnight, and neither will you.” He reached up and turned Steve’s head. “It’s easy. You just gotta let go. Listen to the music, read my body language.” With a sharp tug, Bucky pulled Steve close, pressing their hips together. His breath ghosted warm over Steve’s ear. “You know me. This should be easy.”Steve, still uncertain, took Bucky’s hands.“Look, baby, even those guys out there had to learn,” Bucky said, nodding toward the crowd. “Trust me.” His eyes darkened. “I’ll tell you exactly what I want.”





	

Bucky was curled on the couch with a book when Steve walked in. Unfortunately for the book, Bucky had done everything except read it, so it wasn’t terribly offended when Bucky tossed it down onto the cushions. The book and Bucky both saw it as a mercy. Instead, Bucky devoted his attention to his boyfriend, watching as Steve rattled around the kitchen.

“Well, someone’s home early,” he said, giving Steve an appreciative once-over. 

“Yeah, negotiations weren’t really getting anywhere,” Steve answered, voice muffled by the fridge. Bucky heard one of the drawers slide closed. Steve stood, mouth twisted. The fridge apparently failed to provide. “How was your day?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting his head drop back. “Great,” he said, letting sarcasm color his voice. “It only took me two hours to convince myself to get out of bed, spent an hour on yoga, and by some miracle, I wasn’t late to therapy. Came home. And here I am.” He opened his arms, gesturing to the couch and its lack of splendor. “I, uh, tried to hit up the grocery on my way back, but . . .” He trailed off. The truth was he’d made it to therapy fine, but anxiety met him on the train platform. Bucky had sent a text to Clint, who’d talked him down enough for him to make it home. 

“I didn’t really have a taste for anything, and I didn’t know what you wanted,” he concluded. “Didn’t know when you’d be home.”

Steve chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew Bucky was lying. Bucky knew that Steve knew he was lying. But all he said was, “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. He was. Mostly.

Steve nodded. “All right.” 

Bucky watched the gears churn in Steve’s pretty blond head. He always got quiet when deciding how to ask Bucky to do something Bucky likely wanted no part in. Which is why Bucky looked baffled when Steve asked him out on a date.

“Like, an honest to God, wine-and-dine-me date?” Bucky asked.

The corner of Steve’s mouth tugged into a smile. “Yeah. I think you’ll like this place. Put on something sharp.”

“Combat sharp or sexy sharp?”

“Is there a difference with you?”

Bucky unwound from the couch and headed toward their bedroom. “Not really.” 

*

Twenty minutes later, Bucky managed to clean up decently. Since Steve refused to elaborate on their destination, he’d swapped his loose-fitting lounge pants for black jeans, and much to Steve’s chagrin, added a dark gray shirt and black leather jacket.

“Don’t pout,” he’d said. “I can’t leave the house naked, and the benefit is that you get to strip me later.” 

Steve silenced his protests and opened the door for Bucky. Leaving the house was easier with Steve at his side, but he kept his hands—both gloved—in his pockets and his eyes down. 

“You good?” Steve asked, pausing to lock the door behind them.

Bucky took a slow breath, then released it just as slowly. He nodded. “So, Cap, you gonna tell me where we’re headed?”

“First,” Steve said, slipping his arm through Bucky’s, “we’re going to head down the stairs. Then to the train, into the city, down a couple blocks, and through another door.”

“Wow, you make nondescript forays into the wild unknown sound incredibly romantic and not at all disconcerting,” Bucky teased. 

Steve popped a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

Bucky offered him a closed-lipped smile and motioned for Steve to lead the way. As much as Bucky hated crowds, he enjoyed walking through the streets at night. There was a comfort and power in being anyone and no one, another blurred face in a milling mass of people. As long as Steve was there, Bucky could let the throngs wash over him without fear of drowning. Walking alone at night was something he had yet to perfect. 

Steve kept quiet on their way into the city, answering Bucky’s questions with a half-grin or a shrug. Even nuzzling up to him proved useless. 

Finally, Bucky removed Steve’s arm from his and gripped his jaw. They locked eyes for a moment, the amusement in Steve’s baby blues riling Bucky something fierce. He pulled Steve into a rough kiss, lapping at his lower lip before shifting back.

Steve looked away, pressing his lips together. He gave a low chuckle, the color high in his cheeks. “I’m still not telling you.”

“Fine,” Bucky said, looping his arm back through Steve’s. 

He tugged Bucky from the train, and, as promised, down a couple blocks before turning into a narrow alley. Bucky swallowed. The only thing worse than crowded streets were empty ones. He felt exposed, his skin crawling.

Steve slid his arm around Bucky’s waist. “I’ve got you.”

The alley sat suspiciously vacant; not even a scrap of paper littered the ground. A dark phone booth sat in the center of the building to their right. A decrepit crank phone was mounted on the wall, a dim red light flickering atop it. 

Bucky turned to Steve, lips parted, expectant. 

Steve removed his phone from his pocket, his other arm from Bucky’s waist, and spun the dial on the phone.

“Stevie, that shit hasn’t worked since the 1900s.” But his argument stopped when the crackle of static came over the line. 

“Operator,” a tinny female voice spoke out, her Trans-Atlantic accent high-pitched, striking false against Bucky’s ear.

Steve didn’t try to hide his grin. “Hello, Central. Can you connect me to Isadora Duncan?”

“One moment, sir,” the voice answered. Bucky watched, bewildered, as the back wall of the phone booth swung open. He made no protest as Steve drew him into the dark tunnel beyond, their fingers linked together. Little strips of luminescent paper marked the walls. 

“Why don’t you use your cell phone light?” Bucky hissed.

“That’s not very sporting, Buck.”

They followed the arrows. Out of the darkness, Bucky felt a pulsing beat. It was familiar, but every time he reached for the memory, it sank back. He could feel it beneath his skin, though. He knew the rhythm. 

Then Steve put out a hand and pushed the darkness away.

Beyond the tunnel was a decently sized bar, high-tops and tables scattered beyond the dominating dance floor. A jazz band played on the stage, the music echoing in Bucky’s chest like a second heartbeat. Stunned, his gaze flitted from the band to the dancers to the diners and back.

“It’s a dance hall.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I caught wind of it a couple months ago. The Redlight is what they’re callin’ an electroswing speakeasy. It was a beast to track down, but I finally decoded the address and pass codes.” He bumped into Bucky’s shoulder. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” he answered. “I haven’t been to a dance hall in a century.”

Steve laughed. “I know the feeling, pal. Except this time, I don’t have to sulk in the corner while you have the ladies lining up for a spin around the floor.” 

“I remember a time or two where I took you for a spin. Wasn’t a dance hall, but I heard no complaints. Not from you anyway,” he added. Stevie had loved it; their neighbors, not so much.

Sadness flickered in Steve’s eye for a moment. “I still don’t know how to dance,” he said softly.

Bucky cupped his hand against Steve’s cheek. “I know I’m not the one who promised to show you how, but I’ll teach you, if you want.” 

Steve pressed his hand to Bucky’s. “Thanks.”

Bucky took his hand. Most of the dancers twirled and twisted before the stage, leaving a nice vacant space in the back. “C’mon Cap, let’s see whatcha got.” 

They stood across from each other. Steve grinned, and damn if Bucky didn’t come over all sentimental. “All right pal, you start one of two ways, depending on if you’re leading or following,” Bucky said. A nervous flutter kicked up in Bucky’s chest. Dancing in public with Steve wasn’t something he’d ever thought he get the chance to do. Bucky set Steve’s right hand on his hip before placing his metal hand on Steve’s shoulder. He brought their free hands together and up. “We can start like this, or,” he said, tracing his hand down Steve’s arm, “we can start like this. Make a cup with your hands.” Steve did as told, and Bucky slipped his fingers over Steve’s.

Steve brushed his thumbs along Bucky’s knuckles. “I like this.”

“It’s a starting point. You’ll switch between the two depending on what you’re doing,” Bucky explained. “The steps are easy. Step with your left; I step right.”

Steve shifted his weight from side to side. “This isn’t so bad.”

Bucky grinned. “Nah. If you wanna get fancy, you add a rock step. Left, right, rock back.” Bucky kept the beat, leaning back a bit on the rock step. Steve cautiously attempted to turn them, only stumbling once.

“Good,” Bucky said. “Now the fun begins.”

Steve gave him an uncertain grin. “Shouldn’t you be leading?”

Bucky scoffed. “And give up having a gorgeous guy twirl me around and catch me in his arms? Not a chance.”

Bucky took him through a couple basic spins, the hip bump, and a wrap. Every time Steve got the hang of one, Bucky led him into another, moving just fast enough to keep their momentum. 

For his part, Steve looked terrified. Bucky didn’t want to laugh at him, but sometimes Steve seemed unsure what to do with his not-so-new bulk. As far as things went, they were now pretty evenly matched. Bucky turned himself into Steve’s chest, wrapping Steve’s arms around him.

“You know, this one is called the sweetheart hold,” Bucky drawled. “Happens to be one of my favorites.” He pressed his hips back, looking up over his shoulder.

Steve swallowed. “I might have noticed.”

“Relax. No one’s watchin’ us. It’s just you, me, and the brass band, baby doll.”

Bucky came out of the hold, back to start. He kept them in the rock step for a moment, then slid his left hand back up to Steve’s shoulder. “My favorite turn is the belt turn. When I’d take a dame out, it was my go-to move.” He brushed his nose against Steve’s, close enough to kiss. “Wanna give it a whirl?”

Steve stole a kiss before Bucky withdrew. “Yeah.”

“Step through to your left and pull me toward you, placing my hand at your waist. You’ll turn away from me.” 

They stayed in their basic step for another count before Steve drew Bucky’s hand to his belt. Bucky briefly dipped his hand lower before he trailed his fingers around Steve’s waist, ghosting across his back, and finally catching his hand.

Steve cleared his throat. “That is pretty nice.”

Bucky smirked. “Think you got enough to get moving?”

Steve’s focus darted to the other couples dancing, the swishing skirts and rapid turns. “I don’t know. I’m not that good, Buck.”

“You’ve been dancing all of five minutes, Rogers. I didn’t learn swing overnight, and neither will you.” He reached up and turned Steve’s head. “It’s easy. You just gotta let go. Listen to the music, read my body language.” With a sharp tug, Bucky pulled Steve close, pressing their hips together. His breath ghosted warm over Steve’s ear. “You know me. This should be easy.”

Steve, still uncertain, took Bucky’s hands. 

“Look, baby, even those guys out there had to learn,” Bucky said, nodding toward the crowd. “Trust me.” His eyes darkened. “I’ll tell you exactly what I want.” 

The band kicked up another tune, one Bucky didn’t recognize. With a nudge, they started stepping, the solid baseline keeping time. Bucky inclined his head and tugged Steve’s hand. Steve let go of Bucky’s left hand and let him spin out. He pulled against Steve to reel himself back in to a hip bump. 

“Good!” 

Steve beamed. “Am I getting the hang of it?”

“Oh yeah.”

He tilted his head toward to front of room. “Can we try something like that?” 

Bucky turned; a guy and a gal were doing turns so fast, Bucky got a bit dizzy watching. “You wanna go that quick?”

“Maybe a bit slower?”

“Sure. Step through to your left. We move forward the same way and turn opposite. Don’t release my hands.”

Steve settled back. Bucky raised their joined hands and Steve turned with him, their arms forming a bridge.

“Good. That’s a windmill. Now stop thinking about it and just follow me, okay?”

“I thought I was leading,” Steve said, pulling Bucky against him. 

A devilish smirk crept over Bucky’s lips. “Tell you what, you thrill me on the dance floor, and I’ll let you sweep me off it.”

Steve’s lips quirked up. “Deal.”

Bucky kept a relatively sedate pace, but didn’t let Steve pause for a second. Just when Steve got comfortable, Bucky stepped quicker. Steve wrapped him up, spun him out, and rock-stepped like a pro. Bucky grinned at him, feeling the beat and rhythm beneath his skin. It wasn’t the pattern he remembered from the dance halls, but it was close enough to spark that muscle memory. 

“Two sets, and when I step out again, windmill and release my left hand. Pull me in with your right. Listen to the music, read me. And relax,” Bucky teased.

A nervous chuckle shook Steve’s shoulders. “That’s a lot of orders, Sarge.”

“Hope you paid attention, baby doll.” 

And then Bucky upped their pace.

Steve complied, and the second he released Bucky’s hand, Bucky spun back into him and away again. He tugged Steve into a turn and Bucky slid his hand around Steve’s waist. Steve caught his hand and turned him in place before catching his other hand, knocking the side of his hip into Bucky’s. 

Bucky grinned. “Do it again.”

Steve licked his bottom lip, executing another series of turns and spins. 

The band flowed from one song to another, and damn it to hell if Stevie wasn’t keeping up. Bucky’s smile spread so wide his jaw ached. “Yes, yes, yes!” he shouted, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “Good God, Stevie, keep going. Don’t stop.”

Even in the dim light, Bucky could see the color high on Steve’s face. He loved it when Steve blushed, and there was a good chance that wouldn’t be the last time that evening Bucky would shout those words. Steve’s focus flickered to the other dancers. He worried at his lip a moment before wrapping Bucky up in a sweetheart hold. Bucky spun out and Steve pulled him back in, their bodies lined up, Steve’s hand grazing Bucky’s waist as he slowed. Bucky’s breath caught; Steve’s lips twitched into a filthy little grin before he turned Bucky out again.

He was leading now, and Bucky was content to let him. The apathy he’d felt earlier melted away. As long as he had Stevie, as long as they kept dancing, he could hold the depression at bay. A shade of the old Bucky Barnes drifted back to him. Dancing with the girls had been fantastic, and he’d genuinely enjoyed himself, but nothing compared to dancing with the one fella he’d had his eye on since they were teens. The dip he took was part responding to Steve’s lead, part fallin’ weak at the knees.

By the third song, Bucky realized Steve was using that damn tactical soldier brain of his to mimic the other dancers. By the third song, Bucky didn’t care. He’d waited for this moment a hundred years and racked it up as another miracle of the future he thought he’d never have. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted; he smothered the voice whispering he didn’t deserve it.

With a hard twist, Steve reeled Bucky back in—he was breathless, and grinning, and so, so happy—but Steve stepped into him, both arms encircling Bucky, one at the small of his back, the other braced along his spine. Bucky’s arms came to rest around Steve’s neck. He felt Steve’s fingers brush the back of his head the instant before he felt himself lean back. The instant before he felt Steve’s lips on his. Bucky hooked his leg around Steve’s on instinct. Otherwise, the moment Steve’s tongue darted past his lips, Bucky would have hit the floor.

He might yet.

Steve set them upright again, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. That same devilish grin in still in place, but Steve’s lips were flushed. “So, how’d I do?” 

Bucky shifted his hips into Steve’s in answer, pressing his growing erection into Steve’s thigh. 

A dark chuckle filled the air between them. “Grab us a booth, sweetheart. I’ll get us a drink.”

Their thankfully unoccupied corner remained thankfully unoccupied; Bucky skirted the perimeter of the dining area, silently cursing his skinny jeans. He shed his jacket and slipped into a booth at the back, eyeing the long black drape concealing part of it. 

Steve slid in beside him, carrying a glass of cognac, a gin and tonic, and a bottle of water. Bucky took the cognac and swallowed half of it. Steve sipped his drink, setting the water on the bench beside him. “This is cozy.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He looked back at the curtain. “Highly intimate. You could get up to any number of things in here. And look,” he said, skimming metal fingers along the cloth and pulling it closed. He set down his drink to knot the ties. Bucky climbed into Steve's lap, looping his arms around Steve’s neck. “Whatcha wanna get up to?”

Steve arched a brow, his usually pleasant smile absent. “I thought I was leading, sweetheart,” he said, snaking his fingers through Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky licked his lips, watching Steve sip his gin and tonic. He wanted to sink his teeth into that perfect neck, suck at Steve’s skin until he bruised. Bucky rocked in Steve’s lap, his dick throbbing. Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hair and pulled his head back. Bucky hissed in a breath. Steve’s glass hit the table with a sharp thud, and he clamped down on Bucky’s waist with his free hand. 

“You aren’t very good at listening to orders, are you?” 

Bucky smirked. “Haven’t given me any, sweetheart.” He drew his hands over Steve’s shoulders, down his chest, and reached between them to cup the front of Steve’s jeans.

Steve let go of Bucky’s hair to snatch Bucky’s hands away before wrenching Bucky’s arms behind his back. He leaned forward, reaching for something on the table. Bucky flicked his tongue against the soft patch of skin behind Steve’s jaw. Steve tensed. Then he fastened Bucky’s wrists together, the fabric whispering against itself as Steve knotted the binding.

"I’m about to give you plenty,” Steve said. His hand returned to Bucky’s waist; the other clamped beneath Bucky’s jaw. “It ain’t ‘sweetheart,’ either.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky drawled. He gave his wrists an experimental tug. It wouldn’t be hard to snap it, if he wanted to. “What the hell is this?”

“Snatched a curtain tie from the bar.” Steve took advantage of Bucky’s opened mouth, thrusting his tongue between Bucky’s lips. Bucky whimpered; Steve tasted warm, earthy and sour, with the faint tinge of citrus from the drink. He almost snapped his restraints; if Stevie was half as good at commanding as he was at kissing, then the punishment would be well worth it. But Bucky could behave--for now. 

Steve caught Bucky’s tongue between his teeth and gave it a suck before pushing Bucky back. Spots danced across Bucky’s vision, the rest of his blood shooting downward. With Steve’s hand at his throat, Bucky couldn’t reach him; he sank his teeth into his lower lip, trying to regain control. Steve nuzzled against Bucky’s neck, feathering his tongue against the pulse point. His hand tracked across Bucky’s thigh, fingers brushing against Bucky’s length. He unfastened the button, sliding the zipper down painstakingly slow. 

“Someone’s eager,” Steve said, his breath cool against the kisses he’d left along Bucky’s neck. “You want me to help you out?”

Sparks crackled beneath Bucky’s skin. “Wanting” was the understatement of the year. “It’d be extremely considerate if you’d take my clothes off and fuck me,” Bucky snapped. Steve sighed, taking his hand away. “Sir,” Bucky added, too late. 

Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s throat. A shiver danced along his spine at the thought of the bruises Steve might leave. They’d fade soon enough, but Bucky loved it when Steve put those goddamn muscles to good use. The shiver rippled through him a second time as Steve stroked his fingers up Bucky’s back. They crept around the back of his neck and settled there. 

“Guess it’s a good thing for you that your wants and mine are the same. I wanna fuck you, but you’re being awfully pissy. Don’t like submitting, do you?”

Bucky ran his tongue along his teeth. “Not as much as I like you gettin’ all rough with me. You really know how to get a guy all hot and bothered.”

Steve scoffed, running his thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip. “That so?”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve squeezed the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky gasped, and Steve slipped two of his fingers into Bucky’s mouth. “Show me whatcha got.”

Bucky flattened his tongue, curling it around both digits and drawing them further in. He kept his eyes fixed on Steve’s as he worked, smirking when Steve dropped his hand right back to where Bucky wanted it. Steve pushed Bucky off his lap, withdrawing his fingers from Bucky’s mouth. With a quick tug, he shucked Bucky’s jeans from his hips, a wicked grin curving his lips as Bucky moaned, cock flush against his stomach. He set Bucky back in his lap, not bothering with his own jeans, much to Bucky’s aggravation. 

Steve ran one hand up beneath Bucky’s shirt, the other trailing wet fingers along his spine. When had Steve gotten so damn good at torturing him? That wandering hand slipped between Bucky’s cheeks, and Steve pressed against him. Bucky wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“Please, Stevie,” he whimpered. “I’ll try to be good. Promise.”

“Oh, you’ll do more than try,” Steve said, nudging one finger in. Bucky dropped his head back as Steve worked into him. “Promise.”

Bucky sat up, face flushed, breathing ragged. Steve added a second finger, slowly withdrawing before opening him up again. Bucky wanted to snap the rope around his wrists and strangle Steve. 

Steve crooked his fingers.

Bucky’s head hit Steve’s shoulders as he cried out, the edges of his vision going black as his blood went electric, burning through him hot enough to engulf him. When Steve made no move to stroke him again, he nuzzled against Steve’s neck. Steve gave a low laugh, vibrating through Bucky’s skin and down into his bones. He pushed Bucky back, tilting his head up as he slid out. He kept his hand on Bucky’s back, holding him in place. 

“You are so goddamn beautiful, Buck. Feel so good.” Steve gave him a peck on the lips before fisting his hand around Bucky’s length, and Bucky could have cried when Steve took his hand away again. “You think you can behave for me, sweetheart?” Bucky nodded. Steve brought his fingers to his mouth, licking Bucky’s precome from the back of his hand. “Let’s see how good you can be.”

Steve lapped at Bucky’s mouth, Bucky tasting himself on Steve’s lips, his tongue. He nearly toppled off Steve’s lap when he let go long enough to open his jeans.

“Fucking finally,” Bucky muttered, losing the words in Steve’s mouth. 

Steve wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s throat again, shaking his head in disappointment. “So close.”

“You’re telling me,” Bucky mumbled, rolling his eyes. Every nerve in his body screamed for release.

Steve’s voice went sharp. “What was that?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “You were telling me what I should do, sir?” 

“Take off my pants.”

Bucky looked down between them, twisting his mouth in thought. “I’d love to, really, but I’m not sure my knees would hold me were I to stand up, and well,” he said, shrugging, “my hands are tied.”

Steve blinked, impassive, but Bucky caught the delight in Steve’s eye. He was enjoying this. Maybe a little too much. “Then get on your knees and use your teeth.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and glowered at Steve as he shifted away from him. At least Steve was nice enough to help him to the floor. Steve opened his legs so Bucky could cradle between them, and, leaning forward, Bucky tongued the zipper pull and gripped it between his teeth. He yanked the zipper down, but actually stripping Steve proved difficult. He nuzzled at Steve’s length, having managed enough to snake his tongue in for a taste. 

“Aren’t you sweet?” Steve said.

Bucky scoffed. He tugged at Steve’s jeans, first at the waist, then further down, but couldn’t wrestle them off with Steve still seated. So Bucky sank his teeth into Steve’s inner thigh until Steve raised his hips and divested himself of his pants.

Bucky licked his lips, staring up at Steve from beneath the locks of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. He shot forward, but Steve caught him below the jaw before Bucky had the chance to taste him again. 

“What happened to being good?” Steve scolded. He dragged Bucky back into his lap. Whatever snarky comment Bucky had evaporated into a cry as Steve brushed his cock against Bucky’s. Bucky bit into his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Stevie, I can’t take it. I need you so bad, baby,” he whimpered. “Wanna feel every inch of you inside me. I’ll be good for you. Just goddamn fuck me already.”

Steve kissed the space between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. “Well, you almost tried. Maybe I’ve tortured you enough.” Reaching behind Bucky, Steve untied the restraint, brought Bucky’s arms forward and retied them before slipping them around his neck. He ran his hands along Bucky’s thighs before cupping his ass and pushing him to his knees. Steve licked at the hollow of Bucky’s throat, shifting his hips for a better angle. He let Bucky sit back and pressed the head of his cock into him. 

Bucky twisted his left hand enough to grip the back of Steve’s neck, increasing the pressure until let Steve let him settle at his base. Steve smirked, pressed his hips up just a little more, and all of Bucky’s aggression collapsed, consumed by need. 

He relaxed, laughing when Bucky latched on to his neck. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. So warm and tight.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I swear to god,” Bucky snapped. 

The black curtain rippled. Steve’s throat bobbed against Bucky’s mouth and the two of them stilled. When the curtain didn’t move again, Bucky rounded on him. Steve had flushed, the bright red of mortification cutting along his cheekbones. Bucky wanted his commanding firecracker back. He rocked against Steve, shuddering.

“Better hurry.”

Steve clenched his thighs, sinking deeper. Bucky set his head on Steve’s shoulder, breathing ragged. “Stevie, you’re goddamn amazing. Oh, fuck.”

“I take it back,” Steve said.

The black edge of release crept into Bucky’s vision. He burned from the inside out, his stomach pulled tight, the sparks roiling through his blood. “What?”

“I think you can take a little more, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to strangle you,” Bucky threatened, but the words lacked force.

“That’s not a nice to thing say to the man who’s about to give you the best orgasm of your life.” He fisted his hand around Bucky’s shaft, slicking his fingers with precome. Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck. “Too bad you won’t come until I tell you to.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky swore. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You will.”

Every thrust of Steve’s hips, every stroke of his hand promised to shove Bucky over the edge. He felt the darkness pressing in, the throb and pulse of the jazz band echoing in his chest, the friction and the heat building lower. Steve babbled in his ear, his free hand running over Bucky’s ribs, across his back, through his hair, and each caress set off another series of explosions beneath Bucky’s skin.

“Fuck, I can’t,” Bucky moaned.

“Just one minute more, sweetheart. Just—ah!” Steve pushed his hips up and held himself there, muscles twitching. Steve managed one last pump, but Bucky lost his grip on the edge the moment Steve came, spilling hot between them as Steve filled him, falling into oblivion and feeling the fire die out, leaving a blissful, sated nothingness in its wake. 

It took a long time for Bucky to remember how to breathe again. His lashes fluttered against Steve’s neck. Steve’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him up. Bucky’s bones felt like jelly, and he closed his eyes again as Steve eased out of him. Bucky drew himself up, but only enough to press his forehead against Steve’s before finding his lips. He kissed him, deep and slow, tongues sliding against each other. Steve reached up and pulled Bucky’s binding loose and Bucky dropped his hands to Steve’s chest.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky muttered. “You’re a goddamn sadist, Rogers.”

Steve laughed, warm and rich. “I believe ‘thank you’ would be more polite. Then again, your filthy mouth is one of things I love best about you.”

Bucky heard the water bottle crack open, felt the cold wet napkin Steve used to clean them up. His knees went wobbly when Bucky attempted to stand. It was gonna take a lot more than a napkin to mop up Steve’s mess. They managed, several napkins and most of the bottle later. Fully dressed, Bucky knocked back the rest of his cognac, happy and satisfied. He pulled Steve to his feet, dragging him down for another kiss.

“Hmm, I should take you dancing more often,” Steve said, brushing Bucky’s hair out of his face.

“Damn right. Given the result of tonight’s first round, I might let you lead more often.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, the blush creeping back up his neck. “First round?”

“Oh yeah, baby doll. I ain’t done with you yet,” Bucky said, threading his fingers through Steve’s and pushing the curtain aside. The dance floor was still churning, the music picking up. “We’re closing this place down. You, me, and the brass band.”


End file.
